Puppets Dance

Our sad reality

The hatred hangs overhead like a storm

Clouds of sullen race across the sky

Lighning forks, anger dances in fury

Every fiber of my being screams ‘no!’

But the T.V. answers, “Afraid he’s real,

and his never-ending show rolls on

Unaware pawns, we’ve falling for his delusion

A creature created by our own restless anger,

Unreasoning, on invisible weary strings

We play a giant part of his puppet's bidding

Given a media stage that he won’t leave,

Mere helpless puppets, we dance on and on